


Entropy

by 64907



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Angst, Codependency, Dysfunctional Relationships, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Self-Destruction, Sexual Content, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 13:09:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4061221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/64907/pseuds/64907
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not exclusive, it's convenient. It's what they tell themselves every time, but that doesn't mean they believe it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entropy

**Author's Note:**

> The codependency is not explicitly presented, but it’s there. The self-destruction is only implied as an eventual happening.
> 
> My thanks and love to blaine who helped me polish this, and to Placebo’s Every You Every Me that I looped in order to finish. This is also available on [Livejournal](http://64907.livejournal.com/13252.html).

Sho gasps his name like it's the only thing he can think of saying, and Jun, as always, believes him.  
  
When Sho asks, no, begs him to give it all he's got, he does because it's Sho, and it's really not that hard to give in to him. Jun simply has to turn off his brain and focus on whatever he's feeling at the moment.  
  
When he does that, for a while it seems as if this would last, as if this wasn't just something they do when there's too much of everything all at once. For a while it's as if Sho is into this for more than just the sex, and Jun, against his better judgment, believes all of it and lets it consume him.  
  
Later, when they're both sated but instead Jun feels emptier than before, he tries to recall how desperately Sho needed him this time, and whether there was anything that would make this time different from all the others.  
  
As always, Jun comes up with none.  
  
\--  
  
"I won't mind," Sho tells him from the bed, when Jun is pulling his jeans back on. The material still smells like the izakaya they impromptu celebrated his birthday at and Jun scrunches his nose at the memory.  
  
He looks up, meets Sho's eyes in the mirror and takes note of how disheveled Sho is and how he isn’t any different. Jun supposes this was Sho's way of wishing him a happy birthday aside from the promise of the expensive bag. He'll probably find that one in his apartment in the next few months, with the usual note of "Sorry it's late."  
  
Sometimes, Jun wishes Sho can apologize for other things as easily as he does for late birthday presents. Then again, Jun hasn't figured out what kind of apology he wants from Sho and what for, so maybe there's no point in wishing for that.  
  
Not yet, at least.  
  
"Won't mind what?" Jun asks, watching how Sho's expression shifts as Sho continues to watch. Jun has gotten to his shirt and it smells worse than the denim; reeks of smoke and even has the stray scent of malt from when Aiba accidentally knocked over Sho's tub of beer, its contents spilling.  
  
He catches Sho's eyes lingering on his collarbone, and Jun remembers how much attention Sho paid to it hours ago. Perhaps Sho is remembering the same thing.  
  
"If," Sho begins, and Jun already knows where this is going; this is a path they've walked before. He pulls his shirt over his head and smooths it out, cracks his neck joints for good measure as he waits for the inevitable denial. It's what unfailingly comes.  
  
"If you find someone else," Sho finishes.  
  
Jun smiles out of habit, and when he looks up, he sees Sho's eyes narrowing. Maybe Sho's wondering why Jun smiles every time.  
  
If he ever asks, Jun has rehearsed a long time ago what he's going to say.  
  
He's going to say he smiles because doing so defines him and whatever this is he has with Sho.  
  
"Of course you won't," Jun says confidently. Sho tells him that every time. Probably to make himself feel better or to remind himself that this is nothing.  
  
Nothing. Something they do out of habit. Because it's comfortable and convenient and it never feels the same with anyone else.  
  
Jun knows it's a lie every time, but he plays along. It's what Sho expects, what Sho wants.  
  
After all, it's not that hard.  
  
\--  
  
Jun knows that Sho lies because Sho likes convenience. Sho prefers everything to be easily manageable, given that their lives are anything but that. It's in every aspect of Sho's personality— the Spartan schedules, the diligence in handling the news, the persevering attitude over everything.  
  
Sho likes it when things are in his favor. That makes them easier to handle, feasible.  
  
It's precisely why he likes being with Jun.  
  
Jun knows this because he has known Sho for too long. Sho taught him a great many things. It began with the tutoring sessions but the learning didn't really end there. Sho even taught him how to lie better, to the point that Jun himself believes it.  
  
Sho always had that power over him. It was useless to try to fight against it so Jun has conceded a long time ago. When Sho pulls, he follows. It’s as easy as that.  
  
He wishes it could also be as simple as that.  
  
But it’s not. It’s Sho, and things with Sho are never simple. When Sho gives, he automatically expects something back. When Sho takes, then he also expects Jun to hand something over.  
  
And since Jun is Jun, when he gives, he gives more. When he takes, he takes more.  
  
It’s his nature.  
  
Sometimes he thinks it’s why he and Sho managed to make this work for so long. Work isn’t the right word for it, but he can’t think of anything else. It’s messy, but it’s not that messy. It’s supposed to keep them grounded, to stave off the stress and forget the pressure for a while, but it ceased being that a long time ago. It’s comforting, but only for a moment. It’s fulfilling, but only for a few seconds after the orgasm.  
  
Nowadays Jun doesn’t know what to call it except for something that he has with Sho, the only thing that’s theirs alone. They’re two serious people who don’t make a lot of sense except once in a while, and when that happens, they give in.  
  
Jun gives in because it’s Sho and because it doesn’t take an ounce of effort on his part.  
  
Sho gives in because he likes the accessibility. Jun knows this for sure since Sho gives him an out every time, telling him that he doesn’t mind, that he won’t mind at all.  
  
Jun believes him, remembering that Sho’s the teacher and Sho’s the better liar. Good enough that they both believe it, at least until the want comes rushing back and Jun will find himself in bed with Sho, panting Sho’s name and hoping this one will last, that this one will scratch the itch and keep everything else at bay for a good long while.  
  
Until it’s time again.  
  
Sho probably hopes for the same, if his desperation every time it happens is anything to go by. He will always cling to Jun, try to tell Jun that he has been in varied spots on Jun’s body that night by touch alone. Sho’s not stupid so there are no marks left when it’s all over, but he inevitably leaves an impression that no amount of scrubbing can remove.  
  
At times, it feels like Sho lives inside his skin and constantly sears through him, and Jun, during such times, ponders on whether he should take on Sho’s offer or not just to find out.  
  
Would Sho really not mind? Would it really be okay?  
  
Sometimes he almost convinces himself to go through it. Find someone else but have Sho within range, just to be sure. He almost goes through it more than once, but what stops him is not the thought of Sho lying about not minding at all.  
  
In the end he doesn’t, deeming it unfair to whoever that someone else will be. They could never compare, so why should he bother?  
  
“I won’t mind, Jun,” Sho tells him every time he moves to leave. He makes sure he’s the one leaving. It’s easier that way and it’s what is practical for Sho more often than not.  
  
“Of course you won’t,” is what he always says, and he believes it as much as Sho does.  
  
\--  
  
It started with a need.  
  
It always starts with that and ends with that. It took Jun a couple of years to discover that for himself, and by then it’s too late.  
  
But that’s how it began, back when they were younger and had the luxury to be reckless more often than they’re allowed to now. It was easier back then, easier to surrender for they had less responsibilities, easier to forget since they were both new at it and they both still believed it was something they’d grow out of eventually.  
  
When they got older and were still at it, it’s when Jun realized just how screwed up the thing that was supposed to help prevent things from getting messier truly is. But since they’re older and supposedly wiser, they picked the easier choice and stuck with it.  
  
It was Jun who tried to give Sho an out, at first.  
  
“We can end this,” he mentioned once, when Sho was still the one doing the leaving because it was still comforting to watch him go as soon as it ended. Jun would assume that role eventually. It would later become soothing to be the one who leaves Sho to deal with the leftovers, all the traces and the remains.  
  
Soon, it would be liberating to see Sho trapped in everything that inevitably reminds him of Jun.  
  
“We can end this if you want to,” he said, letting Sho weigh his options and whatever consequences his mind could think of.  
  
“Do you want to?” Sho asked back then, and Jun smiled despite the situation, because Sho was really good at this. He could make Jun feel very special whenever they were in bed together and make Jun doubt himself whenever it counts. Jun’s amazed at Sho’s power over him, and even though he has resigned himself to the reality of it, it’s still a spectacle to see each time.  
  
There’s something captivating about watching how you let someone destroy you piece by piece.  
  
“I’m just letting you know,” was what Jun chose to say at the time, something Sho tilted his head at. They both knew it wasn’t an answer to the question because the answer was no. Jun didn’t want to say it now or ever, but even if he wanted to, it wasn't something he would admit out loud.  
  
Sho nodded before turning to leave, and Jun saw how Sho made a show regarding the duplicate he has for Jun’s apartment, running his fingers around it thus taking a longer time than usual to tuck it inside his pocket.  
  
It was Sho’s answer for that night.  
  
“Consider me informed, then,” Sho said, and Jun never made the offer again.  
  
If Sho wanted to end it, he would. Jun made certain of that. Sho coming back time and time again only makes them painfully aware of the lies they're hiding behind, but that won't stop them from doing any of it.  
  
That’s not convenient. That makes it more complex than what they have and just too hard to handle. Jun would rather deal with Sho and any issue coming from their arrangement than the alternative of not having anything at all.  
  
It’s easier that way; their idea of comfort has shifted into something they can only find in each other, not in anybody else. Jun settled for a few seconds of satisfaction and comfort Sho brings him because it’s only Sho who can do that. Jun wouldn’t stick with this for so long if that wasn’t the case.  
  
And even though Sho says that he won’t mind every time, gives every indication that it’s all right, Jun opts to stick with him despite declaring that he trusts whatever Sho says. He clings. He stays.  
  
If Sho can lie that good, Jun thinks the same should be expected of him.  
  
He is, after all, Sho’s best pupil.  
  
\--  
  
He’s putting on his new favorite accessory, the metal cuff, when Sho says it again, albeit phrased differently this time.  
  
“It’s fine if you find someone else.”  
  
When Jun looks up and sees his own reflection in the mirror, he has to squint to decipher Sho’s face in the darkness. But Sho’s looking at him intently, and the hairs on the back of Jun’s neck stand. Sho has always looked at him like that before they get to it.  
  
But this is after and it feels strange, new.  
  
Unfamiliar.  
  
“After all,” Sho continues as Jun picks up his ring from the dresser and puts it on, “this is not exclusive.” Jun has to flex his fingers as the cold metal band around his wrist and ring finger begin to warm from his body heat. He continues flexing and stretching his fingers, opening his palm and closing it, his eyes shut tight as he listens to the steady hum of Sho’s air conditioning unit. A gift from one of their show’s sponsors, since they also endorsed the thing.  
  
He smiles before opening his eyes, and he sees Sho’s shoulders tensing a little in the mirror. Sho does that whenever he smiles, whenever it’s his turn to reply to Sho's rehearsed line in their one repetitive conversation.  
  
But this time it’s not one of his practiced ones; this feels less like a lie and more like Sho. Hearing this version brings him amusement; Sho’s so good at conjuring believable lies that it seems as if he has just come up with his most believable one.  
  
That it’s fine.  
  
“Yes,” Jun says, nodding. Sho’s right; this isn’t exclusive in any way, and that was something they both cleared up a long time ago. “This is convenient.”  
  
“Convenient,” Sho repeats, and it sounds like he’s reassuring himself so Jun leaves him to it. This is also routinary, this part where Sho mumbles things to himself to convince himself. For someone who’s that good at lying, Sho sometimes finds it difficult to believe in his own lies, and Jun understands.  
  
He knows the feeling of being the only one not believing the lie you came up with.  
  
Jun’s about to shut the bedroom door when he hears Sho’s soft call of “Jun?” that makes him turn back and look at the silhouette of Sho’s form on the bed.  
  
Seeing him like this, Jun thinks he’d rather have Sho talking behind him, meeting his eyes in the mirror as Sho utters every syllable of his well-practiced lie.  
  
“This is convenient,” Jun repeats, his hand on the door knob. He taps on it and the ring on his finger makes a distinct clang against the brass, “isn’t it, Sho-san?”  
  
He hears Sho take a deep breath and sees him reaching over to turn the lampshade on at the bedside table, already grabbing the stack of newspapers he chose to neglect in favor of Jun's arrival earlier.  
  
“Text me when you get home,” Sho says instead, and Jun smiles. If Sho expected him to say the same thing, to tell the same lie, then he’s not sorry at all to disappoint. If, for tonight, Sho wanted to hear him say that it’ll be fine and he won’t mind, then he feels a little gratified at not living up to Sho’s expectations, because that’s something he’ll never say.  
  
He can lie, but not to that extent. Sho is still the better one of the two of them, and honestly, that’s okay for Jun. Sho can take that position any time because now it’s him who goes and it’s Sho who remains.  
  
He inclines his head as a gesture of farewell, not caring if Sho catches it or not, and finally shuts the door.  
  
\--  
  
Sooner or later, Jun is sure, this will stop being convenient.  
  
Or maybe it already has, many years ago. Jun doesn’t know which would be more difficult to stomach: that it’s bound to stop being convenient and they’re both fucked once that happens, or that it’s no longer convenient but they still pretend like it is. It's far easier to deal with a rehearsed lie than be truthful to themselves.  
  
Jun has no problems being honest with Sho. He was frank with Sho when he gave Sho a way out. He was willing to end it provided Sho was willing too, and that was the problem. They weren’t. But Jun had been sincere the entire time, and that’s a testament to how truthful he’s willing to be when it comes to this arrangement he has with Sho.  
  
It’s being forthright to himself he’s having problems with, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say Sho’s having his share of trouble about that, too.  
  
That’s what makes them too alike, too attracted and attached to each other that no matter how much they try they can’t really stay away for too long. It’s probably the reason why they both gave up on doing something about it and just choose to give in every time the need arises, each time the desperation takes over.  
  
“Want you,” Sho murmurs against his skin, his fingers drawing scorching patterns across Jun’s back, navigating around his waist, under his ribs, above his heart. Sho says the same thing whenever Jun has him like this, spread out and waiting impatiently, a whimpering mess that screams for him, for every inch of Jun that Jun’s willing to give.  
  
And, as always, Jun hands over everything he has. It’s inherent to him because this is Sho, and anything they share is supposedly expedient.  
  
Sho's need transpires in contrasting ways. Sometimes he doesn't want much from Jun, but Jun gives his all anyway. Sometimes he wants more, all of Jun, and Jun yields and lets him have everything. It's not difficult to do that because Sho compensates for it as much as he can, and Sho's more than enough to appease the longing Jun himself feels far more often than he prefers.  
  
It's part of the terms of their unspoken agreement.  
  
“Jun,” Sho groans, and he’s begging with that one word, Jun just knows it. He has learned how to distinguish the way Sho says his name in varying situations.  
  
It’s Matsujun when they’re at work because they’re the stable ones and it’s not just the two of them that makes a team, there’s the five of them who do. It’s Matsumoto-kun around everyone else because they both have something that has to be protected, reputations they both worked tirelessly for and took years to establish.  
  
It’s Jun during times like this, whispered against the hollow of a neck and on the whites of wrists, a single rush of breath followed by immediate trembling. Sho invariably shivers whenever he utters it, like it’s a hardship to say because it’s the one thing that’s true.  
  
He becomes Jun when Sho needs him, when Sho’s desperate and aching for him and the only thing he can say is Jun’s name.  
  
He becomes Jun when it’s convenient.  
  
“Jun,” Sho manages, his body drawn tight like he’s being controlled by every stroke of Jun’s fingers, and Jun slides over him, acquiescing. Right now, Sho is asking, Sho is craving. Sho yearns for him and it’s his turn to provide.  
  
When Sho arches against and clenches around him, when his fingernails are embedded into Jun’s skin so deep that they sting, when Sho’s in that orgasmic haze that there’s nothing but buzzing in his ears and the pumping of his blood rushing through his veins, that’s when Jun returns the favor and breathes Sho’s name without the honorifics. Like this Sho can’t hear him properly, like this Sho won’t catch on to what it means, that Sho ceases to be Sho-san or Sho-kun because the need goes both ways.  
  
He’s Jun when it’s convenient, and Sho’s Sho when he has no strength left to hide anything anymore.  
  
Of the two of them, Jun thinks he’s the one who’s more into it, which is probably why Sho gives him the ticket out every time. Maybe Sho wants to see him happy, better, or whatever fancy word Sho’s got for it. Maybe Sho’s not lying at all, that he really won’t mind if Jun gravitates to someone else, finds someone else to fuck for a change.  
  
But each time he faces the mirror and sees Sho staring back at him, Jun knows that it’s a lie, that Sho will mind and it’s not fine at all. Had their places been reversed, Jun would feel the same.  
  
And once it becomes that way, it automatically ceases being convenient.  
  
It’s convenient because he’s there when Sho needs him and vice versa. It only takes one press of fingers against a wrist, one puff of breath against an ear, one kiss against a raging pulse. It doesn’t demand any form of warning before it happens, for they both know when it’s going to happen. They know since they know each other all too well.  
  
But once he finds someone else, the arrangement stops being an arrangement. It stops whatever it has become over the years, a simple hunger that has grown to something more, a thing they never outgrew.  
  
Jun thinks it’s funny that things turned out that way. He did this first when he couldn’t keep up with what was happening in his life and what people were expecting of him. He felt watched, monitored, and the knowledge of it took its toll on him that he searched for a way out.  
  
Sho was that way out, an escape that happened once, twice, till Jun simply accepted that it’s Sho he’d run to every single time. The first time it happened it already felt different with Sho. With Sho he felt grounded, focused, even formidable at one point.  
  
Now, with him lying on the mattress as Sho pants beside him, with his fingers extending to grab a cigarette even if Sho hates it whenever he smokes in bed, he feels unstable, exposed, and vulnerable.  
  
He lets out a puff of smoke and hears the click of Sho’s tongue, and he thinks, as he presses the cigarette against Sho’s lips who takes it despite his complaints, how things have changed.  
  
Not for the first time, he wonders what it’ll be like if he can say the same for himself.  
  
\--  
  
The day comes when Sho asks him outright, and Jun smiles at the question. It’s been in his head for the longest time; it merely amuses him that Sho’s the one who gave in this time. That rarely happens.  
  
“What do you want from this?”  
  
The way Jun sees it, he has a couple of options. He can play dumb and say something like “from what?” just to spite Sho. It’s exciting to see Sho so worked up and within an inch of getting angry. Sho’s temper never left, he just got better at hiding it from most people.  
  
But Jun’s not most people and he knows the right words to say to get Sho riled up, and that knowledge currently puts him in a position of power and he revels in it for as long as he can. Sooner or later Sho will snatch that power back, anyway.  
  
He can also get right to the point and tell the truth, but that ends the game. Sho’s the better liar and this is something they both know since they did it the first time, but Jun has gotten better at lying too and he thinks he doesn’t fall that far behind in comparison. He has his own pride to protect and being truthful seems to be not worth it, not in the face of someone who lies every time he tells Jun it’s going to be fine and he won’t mind if Jun finds someone else to spend the night with.  
  
So Jun picks the remaining option, the one that gives him the upper hand and is also the truth, the one that makes Sho stop and look at him, like he’s gauging if Jun’s bullshitting his way into this even if they both know he’s not.  
  
He is unfailingly honest with Sho about these things.  
  
“I want what you want,” he says smoothly, and when Sho looks like he doesn’t believe any of it, that’s when Jun smiles and clarifies, “I just want it more.”  
  
Sho reaches for him then, and Jun does what he has always done whenever Sho’s fingers found parts of his body that burned for his touch. He meets Sho halfway, pits desperation against desperation, only that his version of it is more demanding, more controlling, because that’s how he is. He has all but admitted it, laid it bare for Sho to take and of course Sho did, because that’s how Sho meets him every time.  
  
That’s how they make it work.  
  
It’s complicated and borders on many things that they’re not willing to address, but it’s also easy and convenient, so they stick with it. Sex with Sho is easy, dealing with Sho easier. For Jun, it doesn’t matter if Sho tells him a lie each time it ends. It doesn’t matter if Sho makes the offer every time. He will refuse it every time.  
  
He’ll just never say it out loud.  
  
So when they're like this, when Sho's moving with him instead of against him, when it's as if he can reach inside Sho's ribcage as their thundering heartbeats seem to join into a chorus, when it feels like he can grab onto Sho's need and keep it in his hands, he does.  
  
He takes and takes and takes until Sho's spent, panting out of contentment against his skin, eyes shut tight as he struggles to right himself and come back down. Jun takes until Sho's reduced to nothing but a sweltered disarray of bones and desire, until every part of Sho smells like him.  
  
\--  
  
“It’s fine if there’s someone else,” Sho tells him as he towels off in front of the mirror, twisting his trunk to reach the various aching spots in his body that not even Sho’s warm water could soothe.  
  
Sho always leaves that kind of impact on him, that lingering sensation of being there, as if Jun needs further reminding.  
  
He sits in front of the dresser and towels his hair up and he can feel Sho’s eyes watching his every movement. He keeps his eyes on the mirror as he runs his fingers through his hair and sees Sho shift, probably to get a better view. It makes Jun smile as he picks up his discarded accessories and starts putting them on.  
  
“I won’t mind,” Sho says, and Jun raises an eyebrow at the change. Tonight’s unusual then; tonight has Sho combining both versions of his favorite lie. It probably becomes less and less believable as time goes by, so Sho tries his best to reassure. Perhaps Sho’s afraid that one day it’ll stop sounding believable at all.  
  
All the more reason for him to fear, Jun thinks. He wonders if Sho knows that he’s not buying it each time, that each time he hears it he smiles because it’s bullshit and Sho’s an idiot for thinking it will convince him.  
  
Someday, Jun will call Sho a liar, just to see how Sho will react. He dreams of it sometimes. There, Sho’s eyes widen at the accusation and, for once, Jun sees him unstable, exposed, and so very vulnerable that for a moment Jun thinks Sho is better at it than he ever was.  
  
When he wakes up, he imagines another possibility happening. In that one, he takes Sho up on his offer just to see the crestfallen look on Sho’s face once he finds out, once Jun declares that it’s over and he’s done and he’s calling off the arrangement, telling Sho it’s the right thing to do and there’s someone else, someone better. He lets the thrill wash over him during such times, when he can clearly see how much he has ruined Sho by finally accepting the offer.  
  
When he opens his eyes and sees him and Sho in the mirror, immediately after Sho made the same offer every time it happened, Jun resorts to smiling and saying the one thing he has always said.  
  
Although, since Sho’s version is different tonight, he decides to try out a variant of his customary reply.  
  
He meets Sho’s stare head on and keeps the grin as he continues drying off his hair. Sho is obviously expecting him to say something, but Jun chooses the silence for once, for a few moments.  
  
It takes a few seconds of just looking at each other for Sho to break and walk over to Jun. Soon enough, Jun feels the familiar, fleeting brush of Sho’s fingertips tracing the lines of his back, his scapula, his nape, his neck, his jaw.  
  
He leans into the touch instinctively, sighing contentedly and letting Sho distract him for a while. When Sho leans down to press a trail of kisses to his shoulder— another lasting impression— that’s when he says it.  
  
“I know you won’t.”  
  
When Sho looks up in the mirror to meet his gaze evenly, they both understand what he means by it.  
  
_And I know you lie each time._

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://sunblades.tumblr.com/post/120333930451/its-fine-you-know-if-you-ever-find-yourself) and the tags I affixed to it, though I think I veered away from the original thought in the end.


End file.
